With Teeth.

So I decided - for the 4th time - to get braces. This time I actually took my ass (and teeth) to the orthodontist office and told them I wanted (pink) braces. They sat me down in a, wait, first they stood me up in a heavy bib and stuck shit in my ears for some reason, and took x-rays of my teeth. THEN they sat me down and took photos of my teeth before sticking a pink gooey substance deep in the depths of my tiny mouth and telling me to bite down. I resisted the urge to gag and puke all over the technician long enough for them to achieve their goal of making little pink molds of my teeth. The object of which is for the orthodontist to decide which of them to maliciously rip out in the next week or two. The wisdom and the baby teeth have to go. That's not an option.

Upon finding out I still had baby teeth, my friend Josh commented that I was like a scary, scary, arachnid or shark that should be featured on Shark Week. Thank you, Josh.

I have to walk around with gaping holes in my mouthage for who knows how long before they decide to put the (pink) braces on. This is the 2nd most terrifying part for me. The first most terrifying part is obvs the being knocked out and having 5 or 6 teeth, some of which have been with me since birth, removed from my skull. The Boyfriend volunteered to take me to and from this dental massacre.

Coming in at third place is not having my fangs any more. They have become a serious part of my identity, at least on sites wherein they ask what the first thing people notice about me is. I guess now it will have to be my giant ass. That's not going anywhere.